The baffled king composing Hallelujah
by Ierpier
Summary: "It really is a beautiful world, Laura."


"It really is a beautiful world, Laura."

He watches the sun slowly hide away from the world and feels the first tingle of nightfall in the sky. It's all so similar to life on Caprica; if he closes his eyes he can almost pretend nothing changed at all. But the air gets chilly here at night, whereas in Caprica it was always warm, even in the deepest pits of nights. The days are also longer with a more fervent, wildly changing weather. And he misses Laura, and that's a feeling that is unique to this planet.

"It has a moon, you know? I don't know if you saw that before." He shakes his head to himself because he knows that she didn't. There had been too much to see and too little time left for Laura in the world.  
"I can see it from the cabin. Caprica doesn't have a moon, does it? Have you ever seen one? It's a bit like when Gemenon rises into the Caprican sky, but it doesn't shine as much; it's just a quiet light. It reminds me of home." He gazes at the sky. There are other planets in this solar system, but he can't see them. Without the Galactica they suddenly seem so far away, like the perspective has shifted.  
"I didn't even tell you about that didn't I? Strange how little we used to know about life on the other colonies; how far away Tauron felt from Caprica. We thought we knew people by which planet they came from." He turns towards her and smiles sadly at the sight of her.  
"If I hadn't met you, I'd have thought you were just a spoiled naïve school teacher." He softly chuckles to himself. "Actually I did think that. You proved me wrong."

"It's getting late. I should go home." He tells her when night finally falls. He can see the soft glow of the cabin from the hill. He calls it home, but the truth is that home died along with Laura. He doubts he'll ever really be at home again like he was with her at the Galactica, but that's okay; it's the soft feeling of being at home that he carries with him, it almost makes earth feel like home. It's almost enough. It's almost all right.

* * *

"I decided to write it down, Laura." It's early, the chill of night still lingering on his skin. The pen and paper are lying in his lap as he gazes towards the sky. He came to write, but the words he speaks to her don't sound true on paper. "I wanted to write it like a warning: to warn ourselves about our flaws. But I realized you wouldn't want that; I don't want that." He turns the pages of the notebook that have already been scribbled with names, dates, deeds and deaths. "I wrote about us. I mean the fleet in general; we lost good men and women, I don't want them to be forgotten: Dee, Kat, Cally, Billy, Crashdown, Anders, Gaeta." He shakes his head and thumbs through the pages until the names blur into one. "You." He slowly adds. "But it's not about you. Not really." He chuckles slightly to himself, because of course it's about her: She's in his blood, like cheap wine. He couldn't get rid of her if he tried.

"I'm stuck on Starbuck, you know. I wrote all of our stories; how we lived, how we died. And I don't know what to say about Kara." He turns towards the pile of rocks and stares at them for a while, almost expecting her to answer. It's irrational, but he keeps thinking that if Kara Thrace could come back from death, then maybe Laura would one day return too.  
"Baltar called her an angel, didn't he? You were always more of a believer in those things than I was. You made me believe in a lot of things." He traces the words written on the page, barely more than scribbles that would never be able to convey the feelings that belonged with them. "In earth, in prophecies, in our future."  
He doesn't accuse her; because even though neither of those turned out the way he expected them to, they led them to where he was now. He sighs and closes his eyes, allowing himself to experience the beautiful world that all the broken hopes and dreams had led them to. "I suppose the truth doesn't matter that much, does it Laura?"  
He smiles and finally puts the pen to paper again to finish the story.

_And she disappeared, having led the human race to salvation. Those left behind were left behind with many questions: Why? How? They would never find answers to those questions, but in the end the importance wasn't how or why she died, but how she lived. For she had chosen to live when she could have given up and died, and thus allowed others to live.  
In turn they would continue to live both in gratitude for her life and in grief for her death; for she was what we are and all we should ever be. _

He shakes his head at the ramblings of a grieving heart and looks up towards the sky, allowing the wind to scathe over his face and force air into his lungs. She shakes his head as he allows himself to be submerged in the memories of her: they feel the same as they ever do: bitter and sweet, tinged with regret.  
but it's better than feeling nothing at all.

* * *

"Happy Colonial Day, Laura." He sits himself down by her grave, slowly laying a single flower on the weathered rocks. "Might be off by a few days, I'm afraid keeping time doesn't go as easily anymore." He gives her the sad smile that he only seems to reserve for her: the one that is a mix between happiness for the times past, grief for times present and fear for days to come.  
"I remember the first colonial day I spent with you. I never particularly enjoyed the holiday before; too many years on the military shapes you into that I suppose. But I remember that day, Laura. I remember dancing with you." He smiles fondly at the memory and strokes the soft petals of the flower on the grave. "I don't even know if I was in love with you by then. Isn't that strange? I don't remember falling in love with you. I just-" He turns towards her and opts for silence instead. No words seem right, no words other than the only one he knows for sure are the truth. So they are the only words he speaks:  
"I love you Laura."

* * *

"I finished the book today, Laura." He holds up the battered copy of _Love and Bullets_ as if to demonstrate and slowly lays it down on her grave. "I don't like the ending."

He forces himself to smile.  
"It's a good thing I never got to read it to you."

He knows it's a lie.

* * *

"I harvested our first crops today, Laura. Still don't have a green thumb I'm afraid, but I'm getting there." He closes his eyes and returns to the memories of the cabin.  
"I wish you could have seen it; our cottage surrounded by fields of gold. I have rarely seen a more beautiful sight in my life." He takes the cob of bright yellow corn from the bag and holds it up towards the sun for a second before taking a bite, letting the sweet taste fill his mouth. He laughs when the sweetness touches his tongue and fills his mind with memories.  
"I used to hate corn back home. I still do, I suppose, but that doesn't matter anymore. So maybe I like it now?" He shrugs and takes another bite of the corn.  
"Back home doesn't matter anymore: All that's left is this … Earth, the cottage and apparently, this corn." He turns towards her again and sighs.

"And you, of course, there's always you, Laura."

* * *

"I suppose I'll be joining you soon, Lau-." He coughs up halfway through her name and catches his breath only when he sits down next to her. "Laura." He takes the last cigar from his jacket pocket, the one he had kept for years as a reminder. He lights the cigar and slowly breathes in the fumes. It nearly launches him into another coughing fit, but he doesn't mind.  
"I'm having trouble breathing." He mimics her words from years earlier, spoken not far away from this place. He can see the same creatures that Laura had loved so much grazing somewhere in the distance. Some things have gotten muddy in his brain, memories distorted by many years, but he remembers every second of that day. He remembers every second with Laura Roslin. He remembers it both like it happened yesterday and like it could have been in another life. He coughs again and sees how the animals jolt up and run away from the sound, earning a chuckle from him. "Sorry Laura. Didn't mean to scare them off."  
He closes his eyes and brings the cigar to his mouth again, filling his lungs with the mix of smoke and morning air.

He smokes the cigar slowly and patiently, just waiting for the end.

* * *

"Laura."

It's all he can say when he sees her standing on the shore. The boat stops before even reaching the shore and the next thing he knows he's wading through the shallow water towards her. She smiles at him, truly smiles, smiles in the way that lights up her entire being. Her eyes are no longer held down by the weight of the world, her body no longer battered with disease and cure, her heart no longer shredded by right and wrong: she is just Laura. Magnificent, beautiful Laura, and the sight of her lifts a darkness from his heart he didn't know he carried around with him.  
"Laura." He repeats and it's the only word that matters when he reaches towards her and touches her, kisses her, holds her and doesn't let her go. Just holding her mends the wounds he carved inside his heart during years without her, fills his lungs with new breath and returns a part of his soul to him she took with her so long ago in that raptor. For the first time since she left him, he feels whole again.

He feels her trembling against him, hears the tears in her voice as she whispers truths against his chest. She never stops talking, she never stops clinging to him as she keeps telling him the only words that matter anymore.

"Bill. Gods, Bill, I missed you. I love you."


End file.
